


Evil, thy name is child

by beth9891



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Dark Harry, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beth9891/pseuds/beth9891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Harry was not the golden hero everyone wanted him to be. What if his very heritage made him into something far more dark and devious. This is a tale of just what might have been if the world placed it's fate on something with no morality. Dark/black Harry. Mentions of slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Evil Walks

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dark harry fiction. He is oc from canon. if this bothers you please do not read. All of my stories are unbetated so forgive grammer and spelling mistakes. Enjoy!

** Prologue: Evil Walks **

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_Evil, My words defy_

_Evil, Has no disguise_

_Evil, will take your soul_

_Evil, my wrath unfolds_

_\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

One argument has persisted since the beginning of time; what is right and what is wrong. This argument has been the basis of what would be called morals. The definition of moral being; of or pertaining to the principles of right conduct or the distinction between right and wrong*.

Most children are raised to follow a certain morality. Depending on the view point of their parents this morality can vary greatly, but generally is concerned with establishing a set of rules or guidelines that the child should strive to follow. Whether the reason is to elevate their own status, or simply do what is ‘right’ it does not matter. What matters is the fact that morals are present.

As a child grows their morals often shift and change with their experiences. They help them navigate and understand their world and interactions. But what would happen if a child was born with no morals. Even worse, what if that child was unable understand or learn such concepts of evil or wrong doing?

What if said child was also unbelievably powerful and quick to anger. What destruction would this cause? What havoc would it propagate?

This was an idea that priests and shaman of all religions warned against. Cautioning their followers on the true meaning of evil. Most mortals could easily dismiss this as the rhetoric of paranoid old men. They could shut their eyes, and cover their ears, passing these thinly veiled threats off as myths or being implausible.

Until they couldn’t. For there was a child born that fit this description. And even worse this child knew how to hide his true nature. This child was the true embodiment of evil.

The kind of evil that can destroy with a blink of an eye, or soft sigh. The type of evil that there was no protection from, no way to hide. For this was the type of evil that you would greet with open arms, welcome warmly into your home. This child was the evil that you did not recognize until it was far too late.

This child’s name was Harry James Potter.

****

****


	2. The Games of Gods

** Chapter 1: The Games of Gods **

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_A dark angel of sin_

_Preying deep from within_

_Come take me in” –A Touch of Evil, Judas Priest_

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**Aphrodite’s POV ( _Goddess of Beauty, seduction and love)_**

The much coveted goddess stared down at the beautiful child sleeping peacefully in her arms. ‘How strange’ she thought to herself, this was probably the first time in her long life that she had not envied or despised beauty that was not her own.

Aphrodite was both a beautiful and graceful goddess, she was not however a kind one. She had a quick, fiery temper that was very much opposed to her origin (that being from the sea foam), she was quick to anger and her jealousy and possessiveness were quite unparalleled. It is true, that she loved beautiful things, just as long as their beauty did not rival her own. There were more than a few gorgeous mortals who had fallen to unfortunate fates for having the audacity to claim praise as their own.

This child was different however. True many would say that he was indeed as beautiful as the Goddess who held him, but for once this goddess did not mind. She did not mind because he was her son.

Now, there are those that might protest that this should matter little to gods or goddesses, who procreated just as often as they killed off or curse their spawn. However, this child was different from all those she had birthed before. For he was the son of the one man she truly loved.

Oh, she had multitudes of lovers, and recently she had even been forced into a marriage that she did not want, but there was one God whom she truly did love. He was not the joyful God of sun, or dance, he was not the clever God of war, no....he was the God of darkness, the God of evil. He was Hades, the God of the Underworld.

The affair had started long ago, before the fight between Hades and his brother Zeus, had taken place. It was before she herself had made an enemy out of the High Goddess, Hera. It is true that Hera never did like her much; Aphrodite would guess this was because they were so similar, and the fact that the Goddess of Beauty was more favored than the Goddess of marriage made her a quick enemy.

This rivalry however had stalled at mutual loathing but ignoring one another... well it had until it hadn’t, that is. Zeus started to fear his brother Hade’s power and ambition and to make sure his brother did not pose a threat to him, he banished Hades. Sentencing him as the ruler of the underworld for eternity.

Hade’s child would never meet his father....at least if the two rulers of Mount Olympus had any say in the matter. After her true love was banished from the mortal realm, Hera chose to exact her revenge on the Goddess and forced a marriage between, Aphrodite and Hera’s lame son, Hepatitis. Hepatitis was not an unkind god, but he was not one whom Aphrodite would ever give her heart.

After the marriage she had thought that was the end of it, Hades was no longer permitted to the upper echelons of Olympus and she was not allowed to stray to the depths of hell...so there was no question of seeing each other again, despite her longing.

It was not too be the end however, for she realized only a month after her marriage to Hepatitis and the banishment of Hades, that she was pregnant. She instinctively knew who the true father of her child was, and feared that she would not be the only one to realize the truth.

She was not stupid, she knew that because of who the child’s father was he would forever live in danger from the vindictive Hera, or be used as a pawn for the power hungry Zeus. If she wanted her child to have a chance she would have to hide him. She would have to give him up to protect him.

And for once she would make the unselfish decision, she would protect her child. Despite wanting what was best for her child it was not truly without personal gain....for her child would bring vengeance on those who had wronged her, he would bring wrath down on those who had imprisoned his father. She knew this as easily as she knew how to breathe. She could see it in those cold green eyes.

Her child, Azreal would change everything. She smiled cruelly. She could not wait.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Artemis POV ( _goddess of moon, witches and the hunt_ )**

Artemis was not like the other gods and goddesses. Many of her brethren were boisterous, gregarious and outspoken in their opinions and demands. She was none of these things; she was quiet, contemplative and most importantly calculating. She did not make friends or allies easily but neither did she have many enemies. In other words she kept her true feelings and thoughts close to her chest.

The friendship she had with Aphrodite was surprising to many, and confusing to most. For one Aphrodite was known to be exceedingly vain, it was no secret that she rarely associated herself with those she deemed unworthy or flawed (well not if she had any say about it anyway, her unfortunate marriage to Hepatitis was one in which she had little say).

So, it was surprising that she allowed it to be common knowledge that she considered Artemis a dear friend. Not to say that Artemis was unworthy of this association, she was just....well very different from the goddess of love and beauty.

While the Moon Goddess was far from plain, by mortal standards anyway... she was rather conservative, known for her own stringent aversion to the male form and her well guarded chastity. It was after all part of what she was known for. Well that and being the twin sister of the gregarious god, Apollo that is.

While Aphrodite lived for the spot light and attention of others, Artemis often stuck to the shadows, skirting the notice of those around her. It was partly due to her shy nature, but also a consequence of being the sister of Apollo. For she was quite used to being thought of as second best, for who wanted the moon when they could have the sun?

Aphrodite for her part had enjoyed the attentions of her brother, but unlike with others who were sycophantic for his attentions it was he who chased her. Because of this difference Artemis could forgive the beautiful goddess for her dalliances.

Even the goddesses had no idea how their friendship came to be, but it did....and well, it worked for them. Artemis blossomed under the attentions of the highly sought after goddess, while Aphrodite could safely confide and relax in the huntresses company.

So, it was Artemis’s help that Aphrodite sought when she needed it most. It was she who came up with the excuse of the goddess’s absence during her pregnancy, and it was she who hid the child away giving a vow to the frantic mother to find the boy someplace safe to hide.

Oh, she was not naive. As soon as she set eyes upon the child, Azreal, she sensed the blackness within. She was more than a little suspicious of who the child’s father truly was, but she did not care. Aphrodite had trusted her....not her numerous admirers to help her, so she would not dishonor that trust by questioning.

Plus, just because she was known for her quiet, gentle nature (which if people thought about it was ridiculous considering she was also the goddess of the hunt), did not mean she was not just as vengeful as the others. So many mortals had forgotten her grace and had turned away, gravitating to the more loved gods and goddess to offer their worship. Her brother had once again out shone her here and was much more celebrated the she.

One look at the cold beauty of the child in her arms and she knew this was her chance to punish the mortals who had forsaken her. If she had to sacrifice a few of her faithful, then so be it. Everyone would suffer in the end. She could not bring herself to care.

So it was with both gratitude to her long time friend and vengeance of her own that she answered the little witches prayers. Oh she knew that she was sentencing the mortal women to an untimely ending, but then again one look at the mortal and her fiery red hair wiped any regret she might have.

Fiery red hair, like the sun after all. She much preferred the pale blonds who gave attribute to her own moon light paleness. No Lily Potter was not a child of the moon, so if her wish turned on her, it was not Artemis’s concern.

The silly red haired witch was praying yet again for a child. She had done so ever since she had found out that she was barren and unable to have her own. Now Artemis would grant her, her deepest desire....to her own folly of course.

It was after both wife and husband had departed to the world of Hypnos, that she made her way into their rather humble abode (humble considering they were supposed to be the head of an ancient magical house) and left the deceivingly angelic child swathed in sheets of gold on their table.

She was not worried for the child. There was little that could hurt it, and even fewer that would want to...well, mortals at least. No, if she had chosen to worry about someone it would have been the mortal couple that she was leaving it with. It was after all that Lily and James Potter would suffer the consequences of calling the child of beauty and death, their own.

Whatever happened, the Goddess of hunt knew it would be most entertaining to watch.


	3. Flight  to Death

** Chapter 2: Flight ~~From~~ to Death,  **

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_All are from the dust. And all will return to dust again-ecclesiasles, 3:20_

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**Voldemort’s POV**

People hurried towards their destinations to escape the sharp sting of the cool fall air.... well, all but one that is. One man, tall, pale and draped in elegant dark robes was not in a hurry. He really had no reason to be, he was after all only here to observe.

This man was not like other men, he was as cold and cruel as the horrors that mothers warned their children against. At the moment he was on a mission, he was hoping to find just where the alluring draw of dark power was coming from.

The dark tint had been teasing and taunting him for weeks now. He knew that it was in this small, unassuming hamlet town called Godric’s Hollow. At first he tried to dismiss the draw he felt towards the place. He was after all a Dark lord and a very busy one at that.

He was in the middle of his bid for power, he and his followers (which he had named the oh so foreboding name of Death Eaters...well he thought so anyway) had been making leaps and bounds towards achieving their goals.

The death toll of muggles was rising, the wizarding population were so terrified of him that they were scared to even say his chosen name, and Dumbledore was getting more and more desperate in his attempts to recruit people to fight against him.

At this point it seemed that his victory was only a matter of time. He should have been happy, thrilled with his success but of course something had come along to mar it. Only a year ago one of his favorite followers, Severus had come to him with half of a damning prophecy.

Something about a cursed child who would eventually defeat him. After listening to the words that had brought his followers no small amount of pain by his temper, they had found that it could be one of two children; a pure blooded boy by the name of Neville Longbottom or the half blooded Potter child.

From the moment he had heard that prophecy he had known that they would both have to die, unfortunately it seemed that Dumbledore had taken precautions and hid both families away. Not that it mattered he would find them eventually, he was currently close to securing one of the elder Potter’s childhood friends into his ranks. Once Peter had sworn allegiance he would use the little rat to provide the location of the family for him.

But regardless that whole mess was not what was currently occupying his attention. No, it was the overwhelming feeling of power coming from this small town. It was power like he had never felt before it was simply intoxicating, and he, Lord Voldemort was going to find the source of it.

He would find it, and then he would posses it...if he could not possess it then he would destroy it. He was the current Dark Lord and he would not allow anything or anyone to pose as a threat to him.

He closed his scarlet colored eyes and tried to pin point the direction it was coming from. For once he was glad that it was Samhain and that his blood red eyes and long black cloak did not stand out. He had no qualms on killing anyone who irritated him but at the moment he did not want to waste the time.

He allowed his magic senses to guide him down a long cobblestone street, past a group of small costumed children, continuing until he was on the very outskirts of the town. The dark feeling here was so overwhelming it almost knocked him on his knees. He had to stop and calm his frantically beating heart, taking deep shuddering breaths of cold air in.

When he had calmed himself enough to feel like he was once again in control of the situation, he opened his ruby eyes and stared at the abandoned house in front of him. For all intents and purposes it was barely standing...and yet he knew that the powerful being, whatever it was, was waiting just inside.

He stood there for a full minute just staring at the junk house in front of him, before something odd happened. He was just about to turn away and retreat back to the center of town, thinking he had somehow misinterpreted where the power was coming from, when the house flickered.

As he watched the deserted house flickered again turning slowly into a small, warm, inviting looking cottage. If Voldemort was in the habit of admitting error in himself, he would have cursed his stupidity. Of course the house in front of him was obviously under some sort of strong protection. He wasn’t really sure why the protection was failing, but at the moment he really didn’t care all that much.

He had to stop the gasp of surprise that wanted to leave his lips as he looked into the front windows of the house. After all this time looking for them, here they were....it was like an early present. James Potter was sitting just a few feet in front of him, casually reading a newspaper, smiling softly at whatever the beautiful red headed, Lily Potter had just said to him.

How was it possible that the deliciously dark feeling that had been haunting him for weeks was coming from inside of the Potter’s hideout? Well far be it for him to look a gift horse in the mouth. He would have to work fast, he was sure that Dumbledore had set up additional warning systems against him.

With a quick shake of his head to help him get over his surprise, Voldemort swiftly pushed the quaint white gate open and strode confidently up the front door steps. The next few moments went delightfully smooth for the Dark Lord, a quick killing curse at James Potter.

Watching the life leave the once clever brown eyes, a slow stroll up the stairs to where Lily had run to protect their infant son. A few words of warning (Severus was in love with the silly chit after all), irritation and another green curse. A lifeless body falling. And then....

And then....he set eyes on the boy. For a moment all he could do was stare at the silent toddler staring up at him with unearthly knowledge in those emerald orbs. Those eyes looked as if they had been expecting him.

He could feel the surprise and shock stalling his own thought process momentarily. The dark power was coming from the child.

It cloaked and caressed the silent toddler in front of him. Voldemort had never thought he would meet someone who was as dark as he was. He knew intellectually the aura he gave off...an aura that caused other’s of dark leanings to croon and fall at his feet.

He had always known how to use and manipulate it, he was of course thankful that those of light persuasion could not feel his aura...it would have made things much more difficult with the old man after all. But in all of his years he had never met someone with such a dark aura that it caused him to be intimidated by it....well, until now.

He shuddered as the beautiful child in front of him stared probingly at him. Anyone would have thought that a child regardless his age would be crying after watching his mother murdered in front of him. Even if the child did not understand what was going on, it should have been disturbed by the presence of a stranger or the shouting that had been taking place previously. But there was nothing.

The child, who was apparently named Harry, simply stared straight back at his adopted parents’ murderer with something akin to interest.

If Voldemort had been in his right mind he might have taken this a sign or warning that he should not have done what he did next. But he wasn’t and he did. In his horcrux twisted mind he saw the child as a threat. If the boy was this powerful already, what would happen as he grew?

With this thought he turned his infamous yew wand on the child, muttering the words to a curse that was sure to bring death. Instead of watching the life leave those green eyes, like it had in all of his previous victims... he felt a soul crushing amount of pain, like his insides were being torn apart and then shredded.

The pain went on and on, seemingly never ending. What could have been minutes or hours later, Voldemort slowly regained his mind only to find that he was no longer in his body but rather seemed to be hovering above the now smiling toddler.

He watched with something close to horror as a small dark shade flew towards the toddler. Somewhere deep down he recognized it as a shard of his soul, he could only watch as he was powerless to do anything else.

The toddler reached out lightly capturing the dark soul portion in his hands; it appeared almost as if the babe was cooing at it. Voldemort watched with morbid fascination as the child held his separated soul in his tiny pale hand before turning those cursed eyes to stare right at him.

Despite knowing that the child could not possibly see him in this form, Voldemort’s shade felt a bone deep dread as the child smiled sweetly at him.

And with that sweet smile in place, the toddler crushed the soul in his tiny hands.


	4. Silent killer

** Chapter 3: Silent killer **

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_Under the moonlight_

_You see a sight that almost stops your heart,_

_You try to scream_

_But terror takes the sound before you make it,_

_You start to freeze_

_As horror looks you right between the eyes_

_Your paralyzed_

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**Vernon’s POV**

Vernon Alen Dursley had always been a pragmatic man. Even as a child he had no time for imaginary friends or games of pretend. In his good opinion, if something did not make sense then it must be wrong. He had grown up with a stern father and doting mother, an older much favored brother and younger spoiled sister. All in all his childhood was exactly how it sounded...normal.

His father loved his older brother more than anything and although Vernon would never admit it, that fact hurt. His brother was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He was clever and charming, ambitious but not to the point where it negatively affected his relationships with the many girls that were besotted with him. Despite his many positive attributes, no one could ever call his brother conceited or vain, infuriatingly enough the man was, oh so modest and kind.

And Vernon despised him. Vernon was an overweight, pale, pasty, spotted thing and one would never guess his relation to his brother when looking at him (he resembled his younger winy little sister much more). He was neither smart nor brave. He had once overheard a friend of his mothers, Kathy (a vain, snippy, gossip mongering woman) making a snide comment to an unknown beautifully dressed acquaintance. Vernon had been hiding just out of eye sight to admire this beautiful woman, one he was sure that after one glance he was in love with.

He now recognized that it had been a small, school boy crush but at the time he was so sure (despite the fact that to this day he has no idea her name. Kathy had remarked in her cruel polished voice (for those were the type of women his mother spent time with) that Conner was everything Vernon was not. The beautifully dressed woman had answered voice full of pity that ‘he might still find something to be good at’.

In that moment he hated that beautiful woman for her comment and her pity. It was from that day forward he found he could not stand beautiful people or things. They were always so condescending and full of false pity. When his brother had died in a botched burglary fifteen years after that night, Vernon could not even say he was sad.

Before a certain fateful night, nine years following the death of his brother, he had never given the world of magic much thought. True his wife, whom he had met while out celebrating his recent hiring as a sales jockey for Grunnings, had once mentioned something or other about her blasted sister, Lily being a witch. (Their mutual hate for their siblings had been one of the reasons they were so drawn to one another)

At the time he had simply thought that she was once again falling back on one of her favourite activities, insulating her sister. The morning of November 1, 1981 he learnt different. It was at the site of one of the most beautiful children he had ever laid his eyes on, and the short, pleading letter that he found out just how much he despised magic.

One glance was all it took, seeing this beautiful ethereal boy in comparison to their own rather dull and pudgy toddler and he knew. He knew it was his brother vs. him all over again. And this time he was determined that his brother would not win. If only he had known.

*o*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*

The letter that had accompanied the child explained it’s un-naturalness, but somehow Vernon knew that there was more to it then the child being a wizard. The child was just wrong; something felt so off about it. It never cried or threw tantrums. It was quiet and clean, obedient almost (well as obedient as a one year old could be) but Vernon knew it was all an act. He knew that the child only behaved because it was up to something. He knew it was evil....but no one else would believe him.

Not even his own family. Oh, at first Petunia felt about the child as he did. She resented the thing for being the last memory of her deceased sister. Unlike Vernon, it seemed as she regretted her sister’s death and not having mended fences before it was too late. Regardless of the fact, Vernon felt secure in the fact that she despised it.

Somewhere in the first few weeks it lived with them, her opinion changed. He never knew why or what happened to change that opinion but change it did.

One morning he left for his job at Grunnings as per usual, leaving his wife and son and it behind...attitudes intact, but when he returned everything had changed. He had come home to find his rather thin and horse-like wife cooing and fawning over the devil child as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

Horrified he tried to point out the error of her ways and lock away the little demon once more only to be reamed out and threatened with the couch for the next century if he so much as frowned at it. Despite his confusion and feeling of un-rightness over this change he took to the warning to heart, he knew better then to raise the ire of his wife. Despite how he pretended that it was he in control of the family....he knew better.

So, he placated himself with the promise that he would watch and wait until he could prove that the child was a demon in disguise. And he saw plenty but no matter what he found his wife refused to listen. Even his toddler son seemed to like the little beast.

Truth be told he was a little scared of the child. Things just seemed to _happen_ around it. He told himself that it was probably related to it being a little witch or wizard or whatever the hell those freaks were, but somehow he was not sure.

He knew that the demon knew was aware of what it was doing, despite it being only a year or so old. Two months after it arrived, the family awoke to find themselves locked inside their own home. All of the windows and doors refused to open. When Vernon screamed that it was the devil child doing it, Petunia was quick to defend the little beast grabbing and cuddling the green eyed child to her chest so that it was staring over her shoulder straight at him.

He swore it looked at him in triumph and smiled. Before Vernon could point this out that smile was gone and the doors and windows opened once more.

Another incident that occurred nine months after the locked door one.... left him chilled to the bone. It happened after he was left to feed the evil little thing. He did not want to waste the time cutting up the boiled chicken or melon for the thing and instead had tried to force it to eat the dusty jar of pureed peas (left over from when Dudley was much younger...the still pudgy toddler had never taken to anything closely related to fruit or vegetable and had instead had been fed pudding and ice cream).

The freak refused and frustrated Vernon had locked it in its playpen (Petunia had insisted on buying it one) and promptly shut the door, ignoring it for the rest of the evening. It was not until the next morning, awoken by Petunia’s scream that he even remember the monster.

Startled awake he bolted down the stairs and found himself coming to a stop, his heart clenching in horror. Their kitchen was completely trashed, glass jars broken, bags torn.... but what was truly frightening about the scene was the shattered jar of pureed peas sitting on the now filthy high chair. A large butcher knife coated in a dark red substance (Vernon had thought it blood, but later determined it was actually ketchup) stood straight up, tip implanted in the middle of the smashed pea mess.

Coming to her senses, Petunia gasped something about checking on the poor dear boys and rushed up stairs to their separate rooms. Vernon stomped after her, sure that he would find the devil child escaped from where Vernon had left him. He knew the child had done this and was sure that he finally had the proof he needed to prove it.

Unfortunately for him things did not go down how he planned. Instead of finding the little devil escaped, Petunia opened the door to it curled up on itself, sleeping peacefully in the center of the play pen. Petunia went from relief (that the thing was okay) to anger (that her husband had forgotten about the boy and left him overnight in the play device).

Instead of listening to his insistences that the freak was to blame for the downstairs mess, she screamed herself hoarse at him and his unwarranted hatred of her nephew. She insisted they call the police and tell them of a break-in. He was banned from their bedroom for the next month.

All the while Petunia was berating her husband, Harry stared at the fat man with those eerie eyes full of smug victory. Vernon swore he would not be defeated by a toddler and vowed to get his revenge.

0**O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*OO*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O

Had he been a smarter man, he might have recognized the danger that lay with the child instead of just seeing it as an unholy freak... but he did not. Their lives continued on much the same. Dudley continued to grow (though more wide then up) and Petunia continued to dote on the dark haired boy.

What happened when the freak turned three finally broke Vernon’s restraint. They had existed in an uneasy truce of sorts (or at least that is what Vernon called it in his mind, for what toddler recognized he was at war with a full grown man?).

His beloved younger sister came for a visit, and like him she recognized the ugliness of the little freak. Like him, she could see behind those jeweled eyes that took so many others in, fooling and bewitching them. That and she to, resented beautiful things. She had lived her entire life being too butch to be called quaint or attractive. She had despised all of the other pretty little girls.

So, when Petunia was otherwise distracted and the boy was outside playing in her flower garden she let her most prized dog, Ripper outside to terrorize the little freak. She conveniently forgot about letting him out and closed (and somehow locked) the door, going upstairs to her very riveting harlequin novel (She just had to find out if Antonio would risk his vast fortune for the love he found in the poor serving girl).

Had she known just who and what the freak she left to be mauled was, she might have rethought her decision. The three year old child stopped playing with the flowers (or rather waiting for another mouse to play with...the last one had stopped moving much to his ire) and stared calmly back at the charging dog.

When Petunia came back from her shopping trip she found her nephew sitting calmly on the front door steps waiting for her. She had rushed to him in concern, thankful that nothing seemed to be the matter. Later that night when Marge screeched about the disappearance of her beloved dog, the toddler had simply replied “Doggy all gone.”

Marge had been murderous in her rage, sure that the toddler had done something. Petunia had explained that Harry must have meant that her dog had run away, which she said was not all that surprising since Marge had locked it out of the house. Furious Marge had left the next day, refusing to speak to anyone.

Vernon knew the child did something and insisted that they get rid of it. He screamed and threatened, stating that they were not safe and that he would fight for custody of Dudley and leave Petunia unless they got rid of Harry.......

Lying, helpless sprawled across the living room couch; Vernon’s weak hands scrabbled across his chest trying to stop the sharp pain. He knew that his doctor had warned him that with his diet and lifestyle he was at risk for a heart attack. However, he also knew that the fact his heart was now failing him, while his wife was upstairs immersed in a bubble bath with her music on too high to hear his cries for help, that it was not due to his risk factors.

As his vision began to darken, and he felt his heart giving its last beats, his eyes fell over to the small child sitting quietly in corner.

The last thing Vernon Alien Dursley saw was those vindictive green eyes.


	5. The Eighth deadly sin: Passivity

** Chapter 4: The Eighth deadly sin: Passivity **

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_People killin, People dyin,_

_Children hurt and you see them cryin_

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**Millicent’s POV.**

Millicent Bulstrode lived her life on the sidelines. Sometimes by her own choice, sometimes not. The fact that others pushed her aside, or overlooked her had never really bothered her before. Well... correction, it had never really bothered her before HIM.

All her life she had grown up with the knowledge that she would attend Hogwarts, graduate and then marry. It was old pureblood tradition after all. It had not bothered her in the least, when she had found out that her father had signed a contract a year after she was born to marry the heir of the Nott house, Theodore Franklin Nott.

Therefore she knew that she would live a life of moderate wealth, attend teas and other social events, all while tending to the needs of her husband. All in all, she would be a comfortably well off, noble woman and would gain all of this by simply sitting back and not rocking the boat.

Now though....now that she watched all of her future plans vanish, like one of those cheap muggle magic tricks, she wished she had for once not just sat back. Harry James Potter had taken advantage of her passivity and obliterated all of her plans.

And like the weak willed little girl she was encouraged to be, she had let him.

*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O

Like every other wizard raised girl, she could not help but be excited to meet the one and only Harry Potter. It did not matter that her father and family had been firmly on the ‘wrong-side’ of the last war. He like so many others had bribed and bullied their way out of an Azkaban sentence.

Not that her father was not still loyal to the fallen Dark Lord, but in the hushed, secretive whispers that spoke of their Lord returning one day, mention was made of the infant child that had destroyed him. Furtive whispers gave speculation to the immense power that the boy-saviour must have and even quieter whispers wondered if the boy might become the next Dark Lord.

True, most of these speculations where mainly the work of bitter, and defeated dark wizards, who still lived out their glory days by getting drunk and bating muggles. But still.

Children pick up on the nuisances of their parent’s tones and conversations, even if said parents wish that they did not. So, she like any other witch or wizard in England could not wait to meet the boy-who-lived.

Her first glimpse of Harry J. Potter lived up to expectations. He looked exactly how a hero should look. Even though he was only eleven years old, the boy hero was charming, handsome and intelligent. But even then Millicent felt that this picture perfect hero had something more to him, something that she couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Adults found themselves enchanted by the lovely dimpled smile and stunning green eyes, children were drawn to the mischievous glint and allure of adventure that surrounded him, boys and girls alike found themselves helpless to deny him anything. But behind this carefully crafted facade there was something chilling about the child.

A warning that screamed danger to all those around, but one that most people pushed aside or chose to ignore in favor of his intelligence and beautiful face.

Millicent Bulstrode was one of the people who would come to see the second darker side of the boy-saviour. Not that anyone would listen to her if she told them about it.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

When she first saw Harry approach Theodore she had thought it a good thing.

She unlike her father did not care for politics and war; she just wanted to be an acceptable pureblood wife to an acceptably powerful poor blood husband. Befriending one of the most influential people in the wizarding world would only help Theodore achieve said power.

Because of this, the site of the two boys together had been a good thing or so she initially thought. At first she did not really notice the change in her future husband, for it was a slow, gradual thing. It started with him spending more and more time trailing after the golden boy.

She had resented this a bit, as he was soon spending far more time with Harry then with her or even any of his Slytherin dorm mates. But she pushed it aside as unimportant, after all they had six years before they would be officially engaged, that was plenty of time to get to know her future husband.

But the changes didn’t stop there. When Theodore couldn’t manage to follow after Harry, but instead was forced to spend time with his house mates he was different. They had known each other all their lives, growing up, playing while their parents discussed ‘adult matters,’ so while she could not say that she was extremely close to Theodore, she knew him well enough to know that he was different.

Before when the other death eater children (as they called themselves behind closed doors) got together to brag and talk about blood purity and dark arts, Theodore would be right in the thick of things...eager as anyone to express his opinions. Now though he got a constipated look on his face and remained stubbornly silent.

One night when she was sitting on the outskirts of the Slytherin girl’s conversation (she was always on the outskirts, they allowed her to observe if not participate) she played witness to a major disagreement between Theodore and Terrance Higgs.

An argument of any kind in the Slytherin common room drew attention from its inhabitants. They were Slytherins, they did not resort to fighting each other- especially in a loud boisterous manner....that was purely Gryffindor behaviour. But a loud, obnoxious fight there was.

They did not witness what started it or even all of the words exchanged but they heard enough to know that it was surrounding Nott’s current behaviour and his distancing from the other Slytherins.

“If you want to be one so bad why don’t you just leave and go find your little saviour?” Terrance spat at a flushed Nott.

“Shut up! Shut your mouth...you don’t know anything about him!” Nott had yelled back.

Terrance had adopted a vicious cruel smirk, before further bating the boy “I know that you love him, you little poof. I overheard you in the library, practically swooning at every word he said...” Higgs taunted.

Nott had gone from a flushed red to a pale white. While homosexuals were accepted well enough in the wizarding world, Millicent knew it was different for Nott. His father would never accept something like having a poof for a son, not even as a side affair to his arranged marriage. Not that Millicent would approve of such things, but then again she would have little say either way.

“What’s the matter Nott? Did you pour your little heart out to be rejected?” Higgs taunted further when Nott didn’t say anything.

Nott’s expression went from horror to embarrassed shame and he lashed out, swinging violently at the larger boy. His fist connected and the sound of breaking bone could be heard throughout the common room. Higgs dropped to the floor, attempting to interrupt the flow of blood that was pouring from his nose.

“Fuck you” Nott hissed before spinning and running from the room.

No one went after him.

*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*

No mention was made of the ‘common room incident’ and life resumed as normal for the next few days. Millicent had been shocked by Theodore’s revelation but she pretended that it didn’t bother her. She had always known that there was no possible way that Theodore could return her crush.

Two days later she was sitting in the back of the library hidden behind a stack of books (not that she was actually reading any of them) when she overheard two familiar voices.

“Teddy, why are you letting them get to you? You knew that they wouldn’t like anything thing different from them....” a soft, harmonic voice caught her attention.

Carefully shifting so that she could see the speaker through a crack in the stacked books, she recognized the boy to be one Harry James Potter. He was seated his face half turned away from where she was hidden, leaning towards a desolate looking Theodore Nott. Harry had his hand casually situated on Theodore’s knee and he was speaking in a soft persuasive tone, an earnest look on his handsome features.

Theodore’s eyes were red from crying, and his clothes were rumpled. He sniffed, “I know....it’s just, I didn’t think it would be this hard Harr...Higgs wrote his father who told my dad....I received the howler last night”

Harry’s grimaced sympathetically, “Oh Teddy, I’m sorry....are you sure you still want to do this?” he asked.

Millicent strained to catch whatever he said next but missed it thanks to a particularly loud giggling Hufflepuff three rows over, which Madam Pince reprimanded with a strict ‘shhh’.

When the stupid girl had finally shut up, Theodore was nodding emphatically, “Yes, their views are old and prejudice, you helped me see that Harr....I don’t want to be that way anymore” the boy paused suddenly blushing and scuffing the toe of his shoe, “...I-I want to make you proud”

Harry smiled winningly at the shy boy and answered, “Of course Teddy, I am so proud of how far you’ve come...you are still going to take my advice? And tell your dad over break?”

Theodore nodded a proud smile on his face at Harry’s praise.

“Good...let me know how it goes then...”Harry answered before looking at a pocket watch he had taken out of his rich black robes, “look teddy I have to go...have a good holiday and I’ll see you when your back, yeah?”

Theodore nodded again, and blushed a brilliant red when Harry stood up and kissed him once on the top of his head before gracefully walking away.

Millicent ducked back down into her hiding place, her gut squirming noxiously. She couldn’t help but feel that Harry was not encouraging Theodore along for his own good. Every instinct was screaming at her to try and convince her crush to not confront his father.

But she ignored it, and did nothing.

*O*O*O*O*O*OOO*O*O**O*O*O*OO*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*

Her Christmas holiday passed much the same as every other. Her brother was home and she avoided him, less she have to listen to his teasing taunts about ‘Millie the monstrous, or Millicent mile wide’. Still, she received the perfumes set she wanted... maybe Pansy would let her sit next to her if she gave her the rarer bottle of orenious orchid blossom.

When she didn’t see Nott on the train as was tradition, she didn’t think much of it. Likely he was hanging onto Harry, so she did not worry. However, when he was not present at dinner that night, or in the dorm rooms the next morning that horrid gut twisting feeling returned.

Throughout the next week there were rumors and whispers about where Nott was and why he did not return, but no one knew for sure. Blaise Zabini whose mother was a close friend of Theodore’s, said that Theodore had a massive argument with his father and as punishment his father sent him to finish his schooling in Russia.

Millicent was horrified... to be sent away from your parents was a step away from being disinherited, the worse possible fate for a poor blood.

A week later she received a curt letter from her mother stating that her engagement to the Nott heir had been broken, that Theodore’s father had come to the conclusion that she was not attractive enough to dissuade his son from his perverse activities. Because of this he had entered his eleven year old son into a binding contract with the oldest Genrex family in Russia.

Because the oldest daughter was already sixteen, they would be officially engaged in a year, giving his son no chance to pursue other interests. Millicent could not belief it.

All of her plans and dreams were shattered...for who, now that they were old enough to judge for beauty and elegance that was so sought after in a pure blood wife, would want to enter a contract with the Bulstrode family. On top of being a tad butch, she now had a broken engagement attached to her name.

She knew that this was Harry Potter’s fault, she could tell from the unconcerned swagger of his step and his unaffected expression that he had never cared for her Theodore. Not even a little.

The worst part was she had expected to meet his emerald gaze and see a hint of recognition, of guilt or even smug victory. But when he passed her in the hall, those cruel jewel eyes slid right past her....as though she was nothing.

And there was nothing she could do about it.


	6. Eve and the Serpent

** Chapter 5: Eve and the Serpent  **

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_He’s a cold-hearted snake, girl_

_Look into his eyes_

_Oh ohhh_

_He’s been tellin lies_

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**Ron’s POV**

Ronald Bilius Weasley may not have been wealthy...he may not have been blessed with a quick wit, or sharp tongue...he may not have been funny, or clever or even good looking....but Ronald was ambitious.

It made sense in a way, having been raised as one of many children in a struggling family. He was simply one of the ‘Weasley children’, never Ron...never recognized for his own merits. Just one of many.

He was not abused by any means, his parents and numerous siblings loved him and cared for him the best that they could... but for him it was not enough. He wanted more, he wanted fame and fortune. He wanted them so badly that he would sit up late at night and dream up various scenarios of how to achieve it.

Of course these were just dreams, he didn’t actually want to put the effort that was needed into reaching his goals... he should after all simply be given them. He hated how all of his brothers had something of their own, an achievement or personality trait that defined them and made them valuable.

Everything that he could ever hope to do had already been done. Being cunning and handsome belonged to Bill’s, recklessness and bravery had been taken by Charlie, there was no arguing that clever and power-hungry defined Percy, while funny and carefree might as well have been the twins middle names.

What could he possibly claim to be? Even Ginny had being the youngest, the baby of the family, the only girl and therefore needed her brother’s protection to fall back on. He had nothing.

That was until he opened that train compartment door during his ride to Hogwarts last year.

When his gaze had fallen on the posed, cultured black haired boy, his first instinct was to make a cutting remark about purebloods and their ilk, but something stopped him. And that had led him to having something of his own to claim.

For he, not Fred, or Charlie or even Bill could claim to be the best friend of the-boy-who-lived. He wasn’t really what Ron had expected, where he had been raised with the stories of Harry’s greatness (like any other witch or wizard born after that Halloween night) he had expected a boy more...well Gryffindor. If anything Harry J Potter came off as the heir to an ancient house of nobility.

He was friendly enough, smiled and laughed at Ron’s jokes, engaged in conversation when spoken to, but he was also quiet, reserved, and calculating....traits more commonly found in the house of green.

Not that Ron really cared, he had only befriended the boy because of his name and scar after all, sure it would have been better had the other boy been as passionate about quiditch, or held the same hatred towards the slimy snake house...but he was sorted into *Gryffindor, so that was good enough for Ron.

Ron was careful to portray a deep friendship with the golden boy, especially when others were near. He made sure to be the one seated next to Harry, the one who laughed at his comments and complimented him on his charm. Sometimes Ron thought that Harry saw through him, the look in his eyes would contain a cold, knowledge...but just as fast it was gone and he was sure he imagined it.

All in all, life was going smoothly for the youngest Weasley boy; his family started to look at him a little different....not by much, but it was there. He was careful to send plenty of detail filled letters back home on his and Harry’s blooming friendship, carefully outlining their many adventures and his own heroic actions within them.

The end of the year adventure with Quirrel and the chess match lasted a good four pages of parchment. His brothers were so envious...

So he felt confidant with his place by Harry’s side, confidant enough to start to let the little green monster, which was such a huge part of his personality, start to come out.

He started to resent Harry for his expensive robes, and good marks. For his easy friendship with almost everyone, for his many fan girls (and boys). In truth Ronald Weasley started to get above his station.

It was this that caused him, after the dueling club debacle in second year to make an offhand comment to Justin Finley about the relationship between Parslemouths and Slytherin. He told himself he was simply ensuring the students safety when the small niggling of guilt tried to worm its way up.

He was a strategist after all. He knew that by isolating Harry from the rest of the school, that his friend would be forced to rely more on him. Their bond would strengthen and he would benefit in the long run. Whether as the faithful best friend who stuck by the wrongly accused hero, or as the poor, brave child who was deceived by the vicious Slytherin heir.

Either way he would win in the end.

Unfortunately for Ron, he failed to notice the jaded green eyes that witnessed this betrayal. The eyes that promised retribution.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Ginny’s POV**

Ginny, unlike Ron had never envied her older brothers and why should she? She was their baby sister, the youngest of the brood, the one that everyone doted on. Anytime she wanted something, all that she needed to do was widen her pretty brown eyes, pout her lower lip and pretend to cry. It worked....every single time.

So, she found herself confused when it finally didn’t.

She as a little girl loved the stories her mother gave her...the ones filled with dragons, knights, and magicians. And while all of these things were important to the tales she knew from an early age that there was no one more important to the story then the prince and princess.

She adored the tales of hard to overcome obstacles and feats that the prince faced down, all of course to prove his love to his lovely princess. And from the time that she heard the story of the big bad evil Voldemort and the brave, innocent babe who slew him she knew that boy would be her prince.

Ron’s barely legible letters that he sent home all through his first year simply made her more certain of that fact. Her idiotic brother talked of little else but his friend Harry Potter. She knew that Harry had to be a great person to put up with her moronic brother; patience was a princely quality after all.

When she first saw him on the train platform, even though for only a moment she knew what love was. He was perfection; beautiful, dark, and even better he was kind! Even if she hadn’t known who he was at that moment, simply noticing that he looked like a very dashing boy, something told her that it was him.

And he smiled at her! (ok, so maybe the smile wasn’t really directed at her but her brother Charlie who had come down to the train station to see Percy, Ron and the twins off), but still....it was breath taking.

It was one of the reasons that she had made such a fuss about not going to Hogwarts with Ron and the others....it wasn’t fair that they would get to spend the next months with the boy hero while she had to live at home with her annoying mother and boring father...BY.HERSELF!!

But no matter how much she pouted or pretend cried... rules were rules, so she had been forced to live vicariously through Ron’s terrible writing, snapping up any tiny detail he might share. It was the first time that she had truly resented her brother.

It was she who convinced her mother to knit Harry a sweater for Christmas (she had tried to slip a love letter in but her mother had confiscated it saying she was too young for such things....irritating woman she was). And even though he never knew her actions for him... she held on, sure that if she were only given a chance she would be able to prove her love and devotion to him

**She was beyond ecstatic when it was time for her to go to Hogwarts (oh, she could care less about the school or learning magic...but well, that was where her beloved was). It started out fine enough....Harry was in the same house as she was, and although she was too shy to approach him or even smile at him (she seemed to developed a rather annoying habit of turning beet red, squeaking and then fleeing the scene in fact), she was able to stare at him from a distance.

She was sure that she was being sneaky about it, well up until the moment that stupid Ronnikiens told her to stop acting like a crazed out fan-girl. What did he know? Not like he would recognize love if it hit him in the nose....he’d probably end up with someone like that bushy haired know-it-all, that was always trailing after Harry...the slut!

So, maybe she never actually talked to the golden boy....but she was sure he noticed her too. He was always smiling coyly, and acting all broody and tragic. Ginny knew that if she had someone she could trust to tell about her burgeoning romance, that things would progress faster.

And it was like her prayers were answered! Just days after she wished for someone to talk to...Tom came into her life.

She had found the ratty old diary tucked in amongst her second hand books and had decided her hand at poetry (she had a fabulous idea about sending Harry a love poem for valentines...something about the color of his eyes....hmmm....maybe she’d even get a singing dwarf or something to deliver it. He would appreciate her creativity, no doubt.), when the book had written back.

At first she was slightly apprehensive, what with her father working with cursed objects and all, but well the temptation was too much...plus Tom was SUCH a good listener, and he was Ever so interested in Harry. So they shared that in common.

It was such a relief to profess her love, and worry about the very, very, small chance he might not return her feelings. And Tom was so encouraging about the whole thing! Wanting the whole back story to Harry’s triumphant defeat of the evil Dark lord, and how he was so heroic and brave. Really it was everything she had wished for in a confidant.

And then the black outs started. At first she wasn’t even aware they were happening, but more and more she couldn’t seem to remember what she had been doing or where she had been. Big chunks of time started to disappear and she couldn’t figure out why or how.

She told Tom and he was so reassuring, telling her it was likely the stress of first year and being around so many jealous people.

Jealous of course of her and Harry’s love for one another. Ron was one of those people. He was always there glaring at her and reprimanding her devotion for the boy saviour...acting like he was worried for her wellbeing, as if there was something _wrong_ with her! But she knew the truth...he was trying to steal Harry from her, wanted him all to himself.

Tom of course agreed with her deduction, complimenting her on her cleverness and encouraging her to confide any of her fears and doubts with him. It wasn’t until she woke up covered in blood and feathers that she freaked out.

She had prayed that it wasn’t true but she started to suspect that the diary was at fault for her blackouts, so in a moment of panicked fear she tried to get rid of it. Yes, tried.

She flushed it down a toilet, in that old creepy ass bathroom on the third floor. A week later Harry walked up to her, diary in hand and asked so sweetly if she had lost the thing.

So awed that he was speaking to her, she hadn’t thought twice about accepting the book from him, stuttering out a ‘thank-you’ and stumbling away. If she hadn’t been so star struck she might have noticed the coolness in his eyes.

She didn’t though. And that is why she was now lying on a stone cold floor, miles below the school staring helplessly at a dark haired spectre.

A dark haired spectre, which was quickly becoming more and more solid...all while she became weaker and weaker.

Her last thought before darkness engulfed her was how she wished she could see those beautiful green eyes one more time.

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* **Note: in my timeline- Harry is sorted into Gryffindor, he convinces sorting hat to place him there by shielding his true nature from it (he is the son of two very powerful gods and therefore is capable of magic beyond human wizards)**

****Harry does not go to stay with the Weasleys during the summer, as he is not getting abused at home therefore never needs to be rescued.**


	7. Revenge’s fickle friend

** Chapter 6: Revenge’s fickle friend  **

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_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea_

_Swimming through sick lullabies_

_Choking on your alibis_

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**Lupin POV**

Remus Lupin had drawn the short card in life.

His first five years had gone well enough...he was the beloved son of a muggle man and half-blood witch; the day that he was born was celebrated by friends and family.

He had grown up in a loving home, his mother was doting, his father wise...there was nothing in the world that could tear them apart...or so he thought.

Everything changed in one single night.

The night that his father had decided to introduce him and his mother to the muggle hobby of camping. And although his mother complained that ‘there was no point to purposefully making yourself uncomfortable’, they all went.

That was the same night that Fernir Greyback decided to indulge in his favorite game of muggle biting. Mistaking the Lupin’s for muggles (since Remus’s father had insisted in the authentic experience) Greyback attacked (although he probably would have attacked regardless of whether or not the family was muggle or wizard).

Both of Remus’s parents managed to escape without any real damage, grabbing their son and apparating away. Unfortunately for their son, he was not so lucky to get away unscathed, for Fernir had managed to land a bite.

A bite that would change his life completely.

At first his parents had tried to live as though nothing had happened, but slowly their marriage deteriorated...his mother was not able to truly get past the fact that her son was now a monster while his father took the brunt of her blame, having been the one who suggested camping in the first place.

A year after Remus was turned, his mother left them. Packed up and left in the middle of the night, leaving a note that stated ‘not to follow her ‘in her stead. His father had done his best to deal, but he was just a muggle and could not possibly understand Remus’s changes or new needs.

Regardless he stayed with his son, even if he was afraid of the child and did his best to avoid the now werewolf. But it could have been worse Remus supposed, he was fed and allowed to go to school. It was the small things that permitted him to continue on.

When he arrived at Hogwarts, for the first time in six years the boy thought the darkness of his life was over. He made friends, wonderful friends....who while they acted in a manner that Remus could not agree with, stood by him.

He was not willing to risk their loyalty to speak up for those they bullied, if that made him a coward so be it. The next several years were full of joy and frivolity for Remus, he was able to stay happy as long as he turned a blind eye.

Then once again his life shifted to the darkness. A war broke out, and sides were taken. Lupin ignored his inner beast’s predilection for dark magic and stood by his friends...supporters of the light.

And while he was still welcomed into their lives, he noticed the changing attitudes, the wary, slightly suspicious looks he received. It hurt... he pretended it didn’t. Time passed.

For a brief moment, joy visited them once more, in the form of Lily and Jame’s son.

He hadn’t even known Lily was pregnant....in fact he had thought she couldn’t have children but apparently he was wrong, for there was the proof, in the form of the most beautiful child he had ever laid eyes on.

Even more astonishing, the child seemed to like him best out of all the adults. Usually children shied away from him, instinctively feeling his darker wolf aspect... but Harry didn’t. Harry seemed to seek him out whenever he was near. And he loved the boy for that.

But the light was once again extinguished when Lily and James were murdered; along with Peter....Sirius was guilty of all three deaths. His entire support system was wiped out in one night....it was eerily reminiscent of the night he was bitten.

And Harry was taken from him. The Minstery laws against Werewolves prevented him from claiming the child for his own. Over taken with grief and sorrow he ran, ran as far as he could. The next twelve years were spent in a pit of alcohol, dirty, dingy shacks and self pity.

Until finally light made a reappearance...in the form of Albus Dumbledore. The wizard found him and cleaned him up, granting him a job and a reason for living...Harry.

His former best friend had apparently escaped from prison to harm his cub (for that is how he thought about the boy) and Albus begged him to come to Hogwarts and teach, adding another set of eyes to watch out for the boy.

He was overjoyed.

He was amazed to see Harry again, so powerful....so beautiful. He was more than Lily or James could ever have hoped to be. Confidant, fiery yet reserved, polite yet outspoken, angelic yet dark. Lupin was so proud.

But even in his blind love of the child, there were things that worried him. Small inconsistencies about the boy that made him pause.

For example there was the boggart incidence

... _he had been afraid to allow Harry to face the boggart, especially in a room full of impressionable thirteen year old children. Voldemort after all would be terrifying. But in the end he permitted it. How he wished he hadn’t._

_Instead of taking the form of the former Dark Lord, the boggart started to shift through a mirage of images...too fast to keep up with. The rest of the class stared transfixed at the mutating image, while Lupin watched in shock._

_After less than a minute, the boggart stilled, the figure of Hadrian was reflected back at the boy before the creature simply exploded in a cloud of black dust. Lupin could not believe his eyes, never in his lifetime had he seen or even heard of a boggart basically imploding._

_But it had._

_What did this mean? Did it mean that Harry had no fear? And why was the boy’s own image reflected back at him? It just did not make sense._

And then there were other things, small things....the way his smile did not quite meet his eyes, or the almost disconnected emotion he showed to his friends and peers. There was just something not quite right about Harry.

But Lupin loved him regardless...he was Jame’s son, he was his cub. He could never be a bad thing.

He did not change this thought, even in his feral wolf form on the cursed night, at the end of Harry’s third year. The wolf did not attack the dark haired boy, it cowered.

It cowered and instead dove for one that it once recognized as a pack mate....the wolf-changed man did not hesitate to snap the black dog’s neck.

He did not pause, doing it all for the laughing green eyes that watched.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Snape’s POV**

Guilt was the predominant emotion that ruled Severus Snape’s life... well that and hate. It really depended on the day for which took precedent.

And how he hated that cursed child. In all rationality he shouldn’t...he knew this, the boy had no part to play in his past humiliations and failures. But it did not matter. He hated him anyway.

In all fairness, the child did not even really look like James Potter, but it didn’t stop Severus from knowing that Harry was Jame’s son. No matter that the boy acted nothing like his father, he was still a constant reminder for what he had lost.

Lily.

It had been too long for her memory to help lesson his hatred... his bitterness had been left to stew all these years...growing, mutating. Then there was the fact that Lupin was now teaching in this wretched place. A place that just served to further remind him of all those years he wished to forget.

What he hated most about the boy, was the fact that no matter what poison he spewed, how many points he docked, or how many detentions he assigned the blasted child, the child never reacted. Not even with his eyes.

They just stared back at him impassively, irritatingly void of any emotion what so ever, and it infuriated the potions master.

Perhaps that was why he reacted to the situation the way he did....now though it was too late, the reason he refused to listen was one he would never know.

He had followed the brat, hoping to catch him doing something nefarious...perhaps get him expelled. The boy had led him into a place he still feared, the tunnel below the whomping willow.

It was like it was happening all over again, following a hated nemesis, the whomping willow, the night of a full moon.

He had ignored his instincts that screamed for him to turn back and instead followed the child anyway... what he found shocked him. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Harry and his little fanclub...a dead Peter Pettigrew lying at Sirius’s feet.

He didn’t understand, none of the scene before him made sense. The bushy haired one tried to explain, he didn’t care...he didn’t want to hear her explanations. This was his chance! His chance to get back at those who had tormented him all those years.

He ignored Lupin’s pleas for him to listen, for leniency...why would he show mercy or listen when the wolf had only ever watched his torment, doing nothing to stop it?

He had stunned Sirius and instructed Lupin to come along at wand point. For a minute he thought the brat would try to interfere or stop him. But he didn’t.

The green eyed boy ignored his friend’s whispers and followed dutifully along behind Severus, a knowing look in his eyes and smirk on his face. For some reason the boy’s obedience only served to make him angrier. Angry enough to over look details...

Details like the fact that it was a full moon, for example.

When they emerged from the hidden tunnel onto Hogwart’s lawns, everything happened at once. He had tripped over one of the roots, stumbling slightly breaking his concentration, and effectively breaking his somnolence spell on Sirius.

Lupin started to shake and moan, morphing all too quickly into a hideous monster. Sirius, now awake and aware saw his friend’s change and seeing the werewolf look directly at Harry, he shifted into a large black dog barked to get the wolf’s attention.

The werewolf had responded in kind, addressing something it saw as a threat. It had snapped Sirius neck, before looking once again at the green eyed teen. It stared for a long minute before turning and fleeing. Snape was stunned.

It was true he hated Sirius Black for his bullying and cruelness in school, but he had never wanted the man dead. Or wished for the normally mild manner defense teacher to be the cause of his once friend’s death. It left him confused.

It left him empty, with only more guilt to take the place that had once been filled with hate.

And every time he saw those judging green eyes, he remembered.

****

****


	8. Cheating of Champions

** Chapter 7: Cheating of Champions  **

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_You look like an angel_

_Walk like an angel_

_Talk like an angel_

_But I got wise,_

_You’re the devil in disguise_

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**Cedric’s POV**

 

Cedric Diggory was a lonely boy. Oh, that is not to say that he was alone...quite the opposite in fact.

He was the most popular boy in his year after all. Everywhere he went he had a group of classmates (or rather leeches as he preferred to refer to them as, at least in his head) hanging onto his every word, tittering at his jokes (regardless of whether or not they were funny), complimenting him and batting heavily made up eyes at him.

So, no... He was rarely alone....but he was definitely lonely.

None of his clinger-ons understood him, not the real him anyway, for he rarely shed the skin of expectation that he wore. There were so many expectations; his fathers, his mothers, his ‘friends’, his teachers....no matter how much he gave they wanted more. And more and more.

He couldn’t get away from it or them. He had no one to turn too, no one who could possibly understand how the weight of other’s expectations was a slow crushing force, slowly eating away at his very being. There was no one...well until he met Harry James Potter.

When he first saw the famous wizard he was ashamed to admit that he had felt the smallest amount of envy to towards the raven haired boy. Cedric knew he was attractive, and that he was fairly clever. He had received enough compliments to know that denying these things would be false modesty.

His father had always pushed him to be his best. Drilling into his head, the importance of having everyone like you, to achieving top marks...the importance of winning. So, when he first saw the younger boy who appeared to have everything Cedric had slaved to achieve, he was a tad resentful.

Harry was a beautiful child, there was no denying that. He was the opposite too Cedric’s own golden, boy next door charms. Ebony and ivory, cold and enticing. Then, there was the fact that he had more fame in his little pinky then Cedric could ever hope to achieve, even with the best Minstery contacts and perfect grades.

He resented the fact that this younger boy could walk into the room and draw everyone’s focus in an instant; that he seemed to have a group of close, adoring friends. So, resentment was Cedric’s first reactions to Harry Potter.

As he grew older, his opinion changed.

He started to notice the similarities between them and look at those similarities with understanding instead of jealousy. It was true that Harry was beautiful and clever, but it was also true that he seemed to be lonely.

At least that is what Cedric convinced himself of.

Like Cedric, Harry had the weight of the world on his thin shoulders....really the expectations placed on the other wizard far surpassed his own. And like Cedric, Harry didn’t seem to have any actual friends....oh, he too was constantly surrounded by ‘groupies’, but it didn’t seem as though they really knew him.

Cedric noticed all of these things, but he didn’t know what to do about his observations. He had never had to try and befriend someone before...usually everyone around him clamored for his attention.

So, when the time came to try and attract another’s attention he was not sure how to go about it.

He did not want to appear to be just another groupie, so he kept his distance. Though there were times he could have sworn that Harry was aware of him and knew just what he was doing, at least that was the feeling he got from the fleeting moments those liquid emeralds would meet his own grey eyes.

It wasn’t until after Harry’s name was also drawn from the Triwizards cup, that he got the chance to have a real conversation with Harry. At first he had felt himself momentarily regressing.... feeling once again resentful of the teen for stealing his thunder.

His father did not help matters, his constant verbal barrage about attention seekers and conceited child only amplified Cedric’s own natural response. But this didn’t last long.

After Harry had confided in him about the first task, Cedric couldn’t logically continue to hold a grudge. And from that moment the two boys started to forge a shaky friendship.

Neither of them were experienced in such things, finding inane gossip and chatter annoying. This resulted in them often spending their time together in peaceful silence.

Cedric discovered that Harry was a wonderful listener, always willing to lend an ear, to offer but not force advice. And before Cedric realized it, Harry James Potter had managed to become the friend he had always wanted, the friend that he always needed.

And that was the reason that he felt so horrible at the moment.

He could not shake the feeling that he had just betrayed the only friend he had ever had. And not just one betrayal but several small ones, all spaced out over time.

At first it was tiny insignificant things...like pretending he didn’t hear the snide hurtful comments made at Harry’s expense. Or turning a blind eye to the ugly badges the Malfoy brat was gleefully circulating.

He was quick to dismiss the glint of steel he saw in the other teen’s eyes when once again the whole school went from hating to loving the other teen in a heartbeat. He never asked Harry how it affected him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

These were the little things that made Cedric’s stomach churn with guilt whenever he sat down beside the reserved teen. The fact that Harry always listened and enquired after Cedric’s wellbeing did not help diminish his guilty conscience.

But what was worse....what was worse was that those were the little betrayals. The horrible part was that Cedric had just done something that stabbed his friend in the back on a much bigger scale. He hated himself for it...but he couldn’t help it...he had to win.

His father would never let him live it down if he didn’t...not to mention the rest of his house. Hufflepuffs had so little to be proud of, he owed it to them. His popularity was all he had, really.

So, he ignored his inner right vs. wrong battle and he purposefully screwed over the one person who had been there for him this year.

He discovered the trick behind the golden egg; the fact that it needed to be submerged to possibly understand that horrid screeching, and then he lied about it.

Whenever Harry enquired how he was progressing with the second task challenge, he would shrug and give a non-committal response or once or twice, even lie outright...stating he hadn’t figured it out. He felt like a monster while doing it, especially after Harry told him about the dragons.

But he did it anyway.

Sometimes he would catch Harry looking at him, his eyes so luminescent and piercing...like he was seeing everything Cedric’s soul had to offer and finding it lacking. But those moments were rare and over so quickly, that Cedric convinced himself it was a trick of the light.

And now, as they both stood mere meters from the shiny golden cup, Cedric wanted to weep. He was so close...so close to winning and gaining his father’s approval. To getting his name in the history books, to receiving a sizable nest egg for his college fund...so close.

And yet Harry was right there beside him, Harry who had gotten here without lying and deceiving...Cedric knew that he didn’t truly deserve to take the cup.

So, he was shocked and amazed when Harry shrugged and told him to take it. Nonchalantly, pointing out that he had never wanted to participate in the first place. Cedric was stunned and so very grateful by the other teen’s generosity that he missed the steely glint in Harry’s eyes.

The last thing he saw before the cup whisked him away was those steely green eyes.


	9. Cruel, Cruel Summer (Interlude)

** Chapter 8: Cruel, Cruel Summer (Interlude ** ** ) **

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_It’s a cruel, cruel summer_

_Leavin me here on my own_

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**Harry POV**

He knew what Dumbledore was trying to do...it really was rather transparent considering the man was suppose to be a genius and all. He wanted to scoff at the man’s feeble attempts to cut him off from the rest of the wizarding world.

Honestly, did the old man really think that he was supposedly ‘safer,’ completely isolated and unable to defend himself? (Well as far as the old wizard was aware anyway).

As Harry stretched out his legs and lay back on his bed, he wondered idly if he had been who they seemed to believe he was if the imposed isolation would have bothered him.

He suppose if probably would have....really mortal’s were such a weak willed, pathetic lot. Really, he didn’t know how he managed to stand living this facade. Ok, so that was a lie....he made sure he found things to amuse himself with from time to time.

Playing with people’s feelings and hopes was a rather entertaining past time.

Now, you might think him vain, or conceited...perhaps a tad bigoted and supremacist even (which would all be true)...but there was simply no denying that humans were exceptionally easy to manipulate.

He was actually rather embarrassed for them. You would think that more of them would pay attention to the warning instincts that he set off in them.... but no, they were all too distracted by the pretty package that the danger was presented in.

Pathetic.

Truth be told, he was rather thankful that the headmaster had decided to cut off all contact from him this summer (not that Dumbledore had actually told Harry that was what he was doing). The young god needed a break from it all. He was weary of hiding behind his many different masks and playing his given role.

He needed these next two months to stretch his neglected talents...to dally in events larger than one person’s love life or another’s ambitious dreams. He need destruction and death on a large scale...luckily for him he knew just who to go to for such things.

“Petunia” he greeted his harried looking guardian. Ever since Vernon’s death (now almost a decade ago) Petunia Dursley had not been the same. Where she used to get a vicious high from spying and gossiping on her neighbors, now she just didn’t seem to care.

Whatever small spark of life that the horse-like woman once had, was now thoroughly extinguished

Oh, there was no denying that she loved her son Dudley or that she thought she loved her nephew... thought because she had no idea of who her nephew really was or what he got up to behind her back. He seriously doubted she would feel the same way if she knew the truth.

But any real vim or vigor she had once had (especially when tormenting those she envied) was no longer present, most days Harry likened her to a robot...someone just going through the motions. Not that this bothered him. The lethargic Petunia Dursley was much easier to manipulate.

He hardly even had to exert any effort to get what he wanted....it was probably the only reason she was still alive truth be told.

“Oh, Harry....what did you need?” Petunia asked dragging her glass like stare from the potted fig tree to where her nephew was standing.

Harry smiled a gentle smile, smirking inwardly as he saw his aunt relax at the simple gesture, “I just wanted to inform you that I am going to take off for a few weeks this summer” he said making it clear that it was a statement not a question.

Petunia didn’t question him either way, “Of course dear....do you need any money?”

Harry shook his head to the negative, he suppose he could have drained the already strained Dursley bank account a little more, but he wanted to experiment this summer. He thought he would make a rather good pickpocket...and well taking money with him would destroy half of the fun.

“No, I’ll be fine....” he stated starting to turn away from his aunt before pausing, “oh, and petunia?” he asked as an afterthought.

“Yes dear?” Petunia asked at once.

“Should anyone come poking around...looking for me, you’ll be sure to come up with some excuse, yes?” he finished; again it was more of a command then a request, not that his Aunt ever caught on to this.

“Of course dear...Dudley will be ever so disappointed that you are not around” she agreed readily but just had to add the last bit.

Harry snorted inwardly; he was positive that his cousin really would not be all that disappointed.

Truth of the matter was that Dudley was slightly terrified of his cousin. Well, perhaps it was a mixture of fear and awe. Harry was pretty sure that Dudley had seen him break both of Eric Swanson’s legs back in preschool. The stupid child had the audacity to cut in front of Harry at the water fountain.

Safe to say no one pushed or shoved the raven haired boy after that day. Sometimes the rumor mill could be a good thing.

“Hmm...I’m sure he will be just fine Petunia” Harry stated with a dismissive wave of his hand before turning and leaving for real this time.

Harry took a few seconds to look over his belongings, trying to decide if he wanted to take anything with him or not. He really didn’t need to....it was so very easy to get anything he needed or even easier to simply trick someone into getting it for him.

He really could not wait to leave this cursed realm of existence. Because of who his real parents were and the fact that he was actually a god, not a mere wizard or boy he had been both blessed and cursed with fully functioning cognition from the moment he opened his eyes.

This had made the first several years of his life extremely dull and trying...not that he was completely without enjoyment. He smiled to himself recalling both Vernon’s and Tom’s last expressions....they truly were delightful.

Being youthful did have the advantage of making others overlook you when hunting for murder suspects.

But, he was tired...he wanted to go home. His real home. He wanted to return to his mother and meet his father. But that would have to wait. As things stood now, it was still too early for such actions. Zeus was still all powerful, his father was still locked away from his rightful place...his mother still lived a dreary loveless existence.

Not that he had much use for such a useless emotion. Love, as far as he could tell only brought those who claimed it misery. Honestly, it was much safer being the one to manipulate others into believing in it then to believe it yourself.

Either way, it was too early to return home. He had his goals after all....Zeus had taken what was most precious from his mother and father, so he would take from the thunder god what he deemed precious. His worshippers...his little mortals who fed his power and strength. Without the mortals, especially the magical variety Zeus’s powers would diminish to that of a demi-god.

Harry could not wait to watch the all powerful god crumble...he did so love destruction.

Speaking of destruction it was time that he met up with Eri. It truly had been a god-send (no pun intended) that the little goddess had moved in just down the block from the Dursleys. Harry strongly suspected his father was behind this ‘coincidence’.

She had only stayed for a year, but it had made the then-eight year olds life infinitely more exciting. They had kept in touch over the years and she had readily agreed to help provide some entertainment this summer.

She had done a truly admirable job on the Rhine River* back in January. She had promised him a road trip lined with death and destruction and he could not wait.

“Azreal my love...are you ready?” the chaos goddess asked appearing literally from thin air in front of him.

“Of course my dear....where did you want to head first?” Harry asked smiling at the use of his true name. Harry was such a plebeian name.

“I was thinking Chicago** would be a good starting point....I have heard it is a hot spot after all” Eri smiled mischievously.

Harry rolled his eyes but grinned in return, “I am sure you had nothing to do with that my friend”

Eri answered him with a grin and shrugged holding out her hand to him, “come let us go”

For the first time in years, the pair of green eyes were filled with an emotion other then boredom....if one were an optimist they might even call it joy.

* **In February 1995 large areas of the Low Countries were deluged with water, and floods threatened many major towns. The Rhine and its tributaries burst their banks in France, Belgium, the Netherlands and Germany. Germany, France, Belgium and the Netherlands suffered heavy economic costs in terms of damaged property and lost output**

** **The 1995 Chicago heat wave was a**[ **heat wave**](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heat_wave) **which led to approximately 750 heat-related deaths in**[ **Chicago**](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chicago) **over a period of five days.** **The temperatures soared to record highs in July with the hottest weather occurring from July 12 to July 16, the average temperature was 106 °F (41 °C).**


	10. Righteous Rebellion

** Chapter 9: Righteous Rebellion  **

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_If you feel so empty, so used up, so let down_

_If you feel so angry, so ripped off, so stepped on_

_Let’s start a riot...a riot, Let’s start a riot._

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**Umbridge POV**

Dolores Jane Umbridge was a hateful woman. While some might protest that it is childish to classify people based on a black and white perspective of the world, they would have trouble denying that Dolores Umbridge was, without question, in the prior category.

This is not too say that she was incapable of the more positive aspects of human emotions… just that they visited her rather rarely. She was capable of love…although only in the most abstract meaning of the word.

After all, she thought she was in love with The Minster of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

And in a way she was. She was possessive over the man’s attention, doted on his every word and would go out of her way to prove her worth to him. Had she been the introspective type she might have realized it was his power as minster, not his actual person that she found so very attractive.

Oh, there were other people who were more magically powerful then he was, and even a few that would achieve more as minster…but her infatuation with the man was based on the fact that he seemed to actually be able to stand her.

She was sure (and in a way correct) that the more successful Cornelius was the higher her own chances for promotion and advancement were. She might have deluded herself into thinking that he was just as infatuated with her as she with him, even if it was far from true.

The truth of the matter was that Cornelius was a spineless man, who had neither the will nor stones to stand up to the forceful personality that was Dolores Umbridge. Instead he turned a blind eye and allowed her to make the big decisions, willing to deny knowledge of her activities should they ever come to be questioned.

It was something he would come to later regret. In fact it was something that would cause the entire Minstery no small amount of regret, as it would serve as a catalyst to the public’s distrust of their government.

It all came down to one misunderstood, a partially heard discussion that took place between Minster Cornelius Fudge and one Harry James Potter.

Dolores had been (as usual) skulking around outside the minister’s office, hoping for the perfect opportunity to invite herself in and have some tea. She of course was planning on convincing Cornelius of the importance of sending all non-human beings to Azkaban….those unicorns just gave her the willies…all their sparkling and prancing. _Nobodies t_ hat innocent.

She was just about too knock on the partially cracked office door when she overheard the heated exchange inside (okay, so it wasn’t exactly heated but in Dolores’s slightly stunted brain that is what she took from the exchange).

“w-what do you mean! Explain!” Minster Fudge blustered, stuttering and stammering only to cover his own lacking of the English language with a commanding tone.

A calm, angelic sounding voice answered, “I think you heard me Minster…” Dolores missed the next part of the statement as the idiot Walderbee used the water cooler. After the glugging of water desisted she managed to catch the ending of the second person’s statement, “…Voldemort is back to takeover”

Unfortunately for Madame Umbridge, she assumed that the second speaker was threatening the Minster; stating that they would use the fact that Voldemort was back to cause Cornelius to lose his seat as minster (had she been a muggle, this slightly skewed thought process might have been attributed to too much LSD exposure in her youth…at least the muggle baby-boomers had that excuse going for them).

She immediately saw this as an opportunity to swoop in and rescue her minster from the vile, lying black mailer and scurried back to conceal the fact that she had been listening…determined to ascertain the villain’s identity when he left the office.

She could not say that she was even a little surprised to find out that it was the teenaged trollop Potter who was to blame.

After Potter had finished his meeting and left the Minstery, Umbridge was quick to descend on a shaken Cornelius to offer comfort. Fudge confided in her that according to Potter, Dumbledore had been scheming to have him removed from office and was planning on using Voldemort’s return to whip up a frenzied rebellion among the masses.

Again Umbridge chose to edit what he was telling her, removing the according and inserting Potter’s name alongside that of Dumbledore so that there were now two enemies instead of just one.

Again had she been the type to reflect on her actions and motivations, she might have released that she added Potter to the list simply because this way, she at least had a chance in terrorizing the enemy. She was not so far gone to believe that Dumbledore would be as easily cowed as a teenage boy.

Plus she hated the fact that said teenage boy was so much better known than she. He didn’t deserve his fame or fortune…he was nothing more than a whiny, conceited, attention grabbing brat. So, while she sat with Cornelius and offered her support….perhaps planting a few suggestions in his ear, she plotted.

She would bring down Dumbledore and Potter, for if she could crush Potter she would be essentially crushing Dumbledore as well…what was the light side leader without his puppet?

After her meeting with Fudge and convincing him of the need to insert a spy into Hogwarts (a sacrifice in which she of course gracefully offered herself for) she made quick work of finding her way to the press office. She smiled happily to herself…she had poison to spread.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Over the next several months, Dolores flexed her meaty little fists and thoroughly enjoying the power she had over the annoying little Hogwarts brats.

She could not have been happier…Cornelius gave her a glowing commendation with every report she turned in (all of them defaming the headmaster and containing her growing concern about a Dumbledore encouraged army being formed). She got to feel big and powerful, and most of all she was allowed to exercise her slightly sadistic streak. Not, that Cornelius was made aware of the last…he didn’t need to know _everything_ she was doing to ensure his continued success.

The only thing that dampened her good mood was caused by the boy she was set on destroying, Harry Potter.

He was the most irritating and infuriating human she had ever come across. So irritating was he that she had begun to suspect that he wasn’t even human….

A disgusting cross-bread of some sort was the only thing that made sense…a werewolf or vampire? Or Merlin forbid… an elf! She came to this conclusion because there was no way that she could be unnerved so much by a simply human.

Oh, she tried to break him of that smug confidence, his eyes were way too perceptive…they held far too much knowledge for her taste. Deep down she would admit she found him rather terrifying.

No matter what punishment she dished out (blood quill and a lifelong banishment from quiditch were just two of a very long list) he refused to bat an eyelash.

He just took everything she handed him all the while staring at her with those green eyes. The eyes that told her just how much he thought of her….just how superior he was to her and how nothing she ever did would change that fact.

And how she hated him for it.

Whether it was because of her already screwed mentality or because her hate and jealously blinded her…Umbridge walked right into her own demise.

Tired of the smug, superiority that the teen carried everywhere with him like a cloak, she decided that it was time to simply get him kicked out of Hogwarts.

If he couldn’t continue his schooling then he could amount to nothing. If he could amount to nothing, then sooner or later the wizarding world would forget about him.

These were the thoughts that led her too dragging him from his dorm room in the middle of the night and threatening to cruico him unless he admitted his lies and manipulations. She was far too gone with her delusions of grandeur and righteousness to recognize the triumphant gleam in the small teen eyes for what it was.

To her delight the boy shakily admitted to having been recruited by Dumbledore as a general to his new army. He went on to tell her about a secret weapon that he and his cohorts had been working on, a weapon that was located deep within the Forbidden Forrest.

Umbridge was thrilled with this information, not only was she going to be able to expel the brat but she was going to find evidence on Dumbledore’s treachery….it was like Christmas and her birthday all rolled into one.

So, she didn’t pause to wonder why the boy was so willing to lead her to the weapon that would cause his own downfall, nor did she pause to wonder just why he was inciting her hateful spewing about centaurs and half-breeds in the middle of centaur territory.

It wasn’t until she was being suspended in-between two of the half-breeds she had just been befouling, that she came to the realization that she had just been played. The thankful look the teen sent the two horse-men and his trembling explanation did not fool her.

Of course it might have had the teen not watched them drag her away with a smug look of superiority in his ever so green eyes.

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	11. the Purging of Pride

** Chapter 10: the Purging of Pride **

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_I’m sorry momma_

_I never meant to hurt you_

_I never meant to make you cry, but tonight_

_I’m cleanin out my closet_

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**Draco’s POV**

-Looking back on things, Draco might compare the whole affair to that muggle play that went by the name of Romeo and Juliet. Well the tragedy part of it anyhow... the whole eternal love side of things he still some times deluded himself into believing.

In truth, the Shakespearean play by the name of César was probably more fitting... with him being cast as the character who got stabbed in the back that is.

Hindsight, as they say is 20/20.

His relationship with Harry Potter started out the same as any other cheesy romantic flick; with hate of course. Well maybe not hate...more jealousy on his part and indifference on Harry’s part, which of course just served to make him resent the beautiful boy even more.

Draco Lucius Malfoy had always been a bit of a drama queen and even more of a spoiled brat. He was the only heir to an old and ancient pureblood line after all. He had grown up receiving every little thing he could ever need or want.

He was not used to being told no.

So at age eleven, when he approached the famous raven haired wizard with the demand of friendship... he had been rather angry (rightfully so in his good opinion) when said wizard all but scoffed at him and ignored his proffered hand.

At first he hadn’t understood. Why would anyone deny the friendship of a Malfoy? This lack of understanding could be blamed for the childish grudge that followed. A grudge that lead to more than one verbal attack towards the other boy. Even more annoying was the fact that Harry seemed completely oblivious to his hate and attacks.

The other boy acted as though he barely knew who Draco was! It made Draco want to smash in Harry’s face all the more. It wasn’t until the start of their fourth year that Draco started to realize that he would rather do something else besides smashing, to Harry’s face.

It had been a rather distressing discovery, one that he spent the entirety of the next two years denying adamantly. It wasn’t until their sixth year that Draco finally had the balls to admit that he might be a wee bit infatuated with the dark haired teen.

Unfortunately given his past actions towards Harry he thought he didn’t have a chance.

So, it was rather shocking when one of his habitual verbal sparrings with the boy devolved into a flurry of punching and hexing. Even more surprising then the fact that Harry had finally chosen to react to his insults, was the fact that the raven haired wizard ended their tussle with a rather passionate kiss.

At first Draco had been too shocked to respond... luckily his hormones had kicked his short-circuiting brain in to gear and he had returned Harry’s spontaneous act. And for once Draco wasn’t resentful over the fact that the boy-saviour was apparently just as talented in this department as he was at everything else.

The next several months of their ‘affair’ (for there was really no other word to describe the physically based, secretive meetings that they engaged in) was based on a mutual need to release pent up energy and stress. They didn’t talk about their days, or their problems. Outside of a frenzied ripping of clothing and hurried albeit passionate appreciation of the other’s bodies, they kept their distance...well emotional distance that is.

It was around Christmas time that things started to change.

Both teens stayed at Hogwarts that year, Draco because he didn’t want to return home and risk receiving the dark mark early (he wasn’t exactly against joining the dark lord’s army but he would rather wait until said Dark lord had time to cool off over his father’s previous failure), and Harry because he didn't feel like subjecting himself to a cheer filled, family orientated Weasley Christmas after he had had such a miserable christmas last year stating he would like to spend the holidays at the magical castle instead (well that was the excuse he was going with).

After a surprisingly gentler meeting between the two of them, Harry had surprised Draco by not immediately getting dressed and leaving. Draco for his part, whose feelings had been increasing with each ‘get together’ didn’t dare to object.

What followed wasn’t an all out heart-to-heart from which they parted deeply in love, it was rather an awkward and stinted conversation in truth. But after that, every time they met they talked a little more and it wasn’t long until Draco found himself in a relationship with Harry James Potter.

In retrospect he can admit that he fell hard and fast for the hero, and had he not been so swept up in the newness of the whole affair, he might have realized that it wasn’t a two way street.

But he didn’t. It might have been partly due to the fact that he was a Malfoy, and despite the earlier rejection he had received from the teen, he still couldn’t fathom anyone not wanting him as much as he wanted them.

When it came to decide on his true allegiance he didn’t even hesitate. For who would chose family over true love? He still couldn’t believe he had been so foolish.

He ignored all of his instincts telling him that the shine in Harry’s eyes was not love and devotion to Draco but rather glee over the fact that he was once again the one holding all of the cards. He deluded himself into believing he had found that fairytale emotion called love.

He didn’t hesitate to abandon his already imprisoned father or leave his mother’s fate up to chance. He all but ran to the headmaster, telling him of the mission he had been given in exchange for a place on the light side. He had thought that Harry would be so proud...what an idiot he had been.

It was after the meeting with Dumbledore that would change his entire life that it happened. He discovered Harry’s true colors.

He had been both relieved and terrified after spilling his secrets to the elderly Headmaster and couldn’t wait to tell the other teen.

He wouldn’t be able to return to his family home again, it was doubtful that he would even be able to see his parents after what he had done. He had after all just thrown every bit of Malfoy-loyalty rhetoric into the wind. He was abandoning them to their fates, while he tried to go after what he really wanted.

And what he had wanted was love. More specifically the love of Harry James Potter. Unfortunately for him it was not to be.

After he had left the headmaster’s office his frame still shaking slightly over the enormity of what he had done, he searched desperately for Harry. He needed a release, he needed to comfort himself in the other boy’s embrace, to grasp onto the reason he had done everything for.

And he found Harry... although he later wished he hadn’t.

If he hadn’t he might have been able to continue to delude himself over their relationship and its meaning to the other boy. He sometimes wondered if that would have been better then knowing the truth.

When he found Harry the teen wasn’t alone...far from it. No, when he found Harry he had his head thrown back in ecstasy... ecstasy caused from the fact that Draco’s best friend, Blaise Zabini was treating him to a blow job.

Before coming upon the two of them Draco had never really understood the euphemism to a broken heart. He did now though....for watching the man he loved get off with someone who was suppose to be a friend, caused such a sharp clenching sensation in his chest that it could have only been caused by the shattering of the aforementioned organ.

The worst part was that when Harry had finally noticed his presence, the ebony haired boy didn’t even look surprised or ashamed. He had straightened from his half slumped position against the back wall, pausing to tuck himself back in before offering Draco a lazy smile and nod and abruptly turning and walking away.

Blaise at least had the common decency to look embarrassed at getting caught and had muttered a quick ‘I’m sorry’ before quickly putting distance between Draco and his person.

It was the first time in his short life that Draco knew what it felt like to have your pride shattered as though it was nothing. He spent the next several weeks hiding behind whatever was nearby every time Harry passed him in the hall.

Not that he needed to as Harry didn’t even bother to look at him after that day. And it wasn’t even the kind of avoidance that someone did because they were ashamed of their actions and couldn’t bare to look at the person they had betrayed. No, it was the ‘that person doesn’t exist’ kind.

But even worse the complete betrayal and humiliation that Draco felt every time he saw the beautiful teen, was the fact that no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t forget him.

Years later he still fell asleep to the memory of those treacherous green eyes.  

 

 


	12. Infernal

** Chapter 11: Infernal **

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_I’m waking up to ash and dust_

_I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust_

_I’m breathin in the chemicals_

_I’m breaking in, shaping up, checking out on the prison bus_

_This is, the apocalypse, whoa_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Dumbledore POV**

 

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore closed his eyes clutching with what feeble strength he had left at the rim of the stone basin. His bespectacled vision swam and he desperately tried to blink the blurry edges away.

“Come on professor, just one more...you’re almost finished” Harry encouraged, tipping the caustic, vile tasting potion down the older wizard’s throat.

Visions and memories flashed before him, a never ending slideshow of his failures and mistakes; The time when the was eight and lost his temper which caused his magic to attack his brother and break his arm, his fight with Grindewald when they were sixteen arguing over the rightness of two boys being together, the later fight and fatal curse that hit his beloved sister Ariana... punching Aberforth in the nose....the memories just kept coming.

Perhaps one of his worst mistakes he had made was how he handled one young Tom Marvolo Riddle. He couldn’t help himself, from the moment he saw that familiar gleam in the eleven-year olds eyes, he feared what the boy might become.

Because of that, he had treated Tom with a coldness and suspicion that shames him to recall. Maybe if he had shown the child understanding instead of mistrust, mentored instead of monitored things would have turned out different.

He has tried to tell himself that he is not to blame for the Darkest lord of the past several centuries, but there are times he cannot help but wonder. It is only because of another dark haired boy that the headmaster has been able to find some sense of redemption.

When he first saw Harry Potter he was frightened by the similarities between the child and the child Tom Riddle had once been. They were both incredibly handsome boys, both geniuses by their own right, both charming and suave. And both of them had the same aloof disconnect from their peers.

This time though, Albus decided to do things differently. Instead of treating young Harry with wariness that some might argue was prudent...he chose to ignore his instincts pushing him to monitor the boy’s every move. Oh, he watched him closer than the other students... but it was more for the child’s safety than anything else.

He had been relieved to note differences between the two boys...Harry didn’t seem to be as ambitious as Tom had been, for one he didn’t try to amass followers and admirers but rather seemed to avoid most people.

It was true Harry had a few closeish acquaintances, but they were acquaintances as most. And while this worried Albus initially, the boy never appeared to be overly interested in the dark arts or tried to influence those around him in that direction. In fact young Draco Malfoy switched from Voldemort’s side to the light side to garner the teen’s affections.

Regardless of the checks and minuses on whether the boy was another Tom Riddle, Dumbledore did his best to treat him with warmth and understanding....he would not make the same mistake twice. Harry was too important to the grand scheme of things to have him turn against him.

Albus regretted the events that would need to play out for Voldemort to be defeated, he hated the fact that a young boy would need to make the ultimate sacrifice. It was different for him...he was an old man; he had lived out his live. Departing from this world would not be such a bad thing. But Harry....

Well it seemed cruel that Harry would likely not see his eighteenth birthday. But this was life. It was for the greater good.

His thoughts were pulled away from this line of thinking as pain wracked his body, the potion meant to weaken him was currently moving into its second course going from attacking his mind to attacking his body...the third and last part of the poisons’ path would be too attack his magic...leaving him a near squib...if he survived it.

He saw Harry’s angelic face hovering above him, “Professor?”

“Grab ...locket....basin” Dumbledore managed to wheeze out fighting for breath as the liquid attacked his lungs.

Harry glanced over at the now nearly empty basin, before turning back to stare at him impassively.

Confusion flooded Albus’s ailing brain, “H-a-rry?” he garbled out, coughing violently as he spit out blood filled secretions. He forced himself to take another deep breath and gathered what was left of his strength to try and communicate with the silent teen.

He felt the third step of the potion come into effect as the pain in his body all but stopped, but instead of relief it suddenly felt like his soul was being shred.

“L-listen H-Harry you...you ar-are the only o-one who can defeat V-v...” he was overcome by the pain for a moment before he tried again, “...Voldemort...his..h-horcruxes...s-still f-four more a-after locket...y..must de-destroy them...only way to...to d-defeat him....p-please Harry, t-they are counting on –you” he finished before beginning to cough again.

Harry stood, still as a statue, his head cocked curiously to one side watching his headmaster struggle... after a moment he replied, “no”

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed not understanding what the teen meant...surely he didn’t mean...no...he couldn’t. Albus concluded he must have misunderstood the teen, “no?” he gasped out in question.

“You heard me correctly, no” Harry replied calmly moving towards Albus and picking up the man’s wand, stroking it lovingly for a moment, “such a shame...” he murmured before swiftly breaking it in half.

Albus stared at him in shock, not quite believing what he was witnessing. Harry looked up at him again and continued his explanation, “No, I will not face Voldemort or fight for the rest of the sheep’s freedom...frankly they do not deserve it...” he paused for a moment a cruel glint shining in his eyes, “plus I rather enjoy watching them die”

Albus struggled to pull himself up off the ground, but failed to do so. There was no way he could get up without help; the potion had thoroughly wrecked his body, not to mention drained him of almost all of his magic. He watched as Harry moved gracefully to where the boat was anchored, climbing effortlessly in.

“w-why?” Albus whispered desperate to understand how he could have once again screwed up so badly. How had this happened? What did he do wrong?

The sable haired teen gave him a long look before stating in a flat voice, “Because Albus Dumbledore you should have known better...playing with men should be left to the gods”

And with that final verdict, Albus Dumbledore watched the green eyed teen move the boat swiftly across the Inferi filled lake, leaving him alone with his regrets and past mistakes.

The biggest of those mistakes being his failure to recognize the true nature behind those immortal green eyes.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

**5 years later……**

Years later Harry watched as Voldemort’s forces clashed with what remained of the resistance, both sides cutting down the bodies of their opponents, their blood slowly turned the ground a dark crimson.

Harry stood to the side of the waging battle…just out of site and watched the surrounding grounds and forest burn. The once green trees slowly surrendered to a damning red. The flames reflected back in his emerald eyes, giving them an almost reddish tinge.

As he took in the sight of the pure unadulterated destruction and chaos in front of him, he sighed contentedly.

He had always hated the color green. 


End file.
